


Anamorphosis

by Lycaon Shadowhunter (TachyonStar)



Series: Y'senia's Plot Antics [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Here There Be Spoilers, I may be absolutely shameless, Monsterfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TachyonStar/pseuds/Lycaon%20Shadowhunter
Summary: In trying to free Gaia, Y'senia gets far more than was originally bargained for. (Major spoilers for patch 5.4 and the Eden raids)
Relationships: Fatebreaker/Warrior of Light
Series: Y'senia's Plot Antics [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756690
Kudos: 12





	Anamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> ...I. Ah.
> 
> *buries face in hands*
> 
> I swear to god I'm not a monsterfucker, but _oh my god_ , how was I supposed to NOT do this when I saw the Fatebreaker. Holy shit.
> 
> (Thancred's VA really deserves a goddamn bonus for making me feel both extremely unnerved and yet strangely horny that whole fight...)
> 
> I clearly enjoyed writing this too much and I am absolutely not sorry. Not in the least. Senia might be, but only because she gets a little conflicted when it comes to boinking an aetheric being that rather resembles one of her mates. As one does.
> 
> Happy Christmas everyone, enjoy your monsterfucking. ~~I sure am.~~

When I see the embodiment of twisted memory that stands before me, I feel an unpleasantly nauseating cold fill me, the ground beneath my feet seeming to simply fall away as if to send me tumbling into an abyss without end.  
  
It is so _achingly_ familiar, that face, that _figure_ , and yet so alien at the same time. Eyes that should be gentle look at me with unbridled hostility, hands like those that once comforted and protected me are now lifted in readiness to fight, pure malevolent hatred radiates from the form so resembling the man who cherishes and loves me above all else; it is too discordant, too overwhelmingly painful, and I realise as my vision grows somewhat blurry that tears are welling inexorably in my eyes. _How am I supposed to fight something like this,_ I think before I can stop myself, and it brings a wave of shame and resignation with it as I recall why I am even here in the first place - if we are to have even the slightest hope of saving Gaia, retrieving her from Mitron's greedy clutches, I _must_ fight, and I must win...yet at the same time, it truly does seem a task so monumental as to be impossible, and only the fact I am paralysed with the sheer turmoil raging within me keeps me from going to my knees in despair. _I can't...I can't do this. I have to, but...but I...!  
  
__"Senia,"_ Ryne's voice reaches me, quiet and hazed with aetherial interference, but growing quickly louder and more urgent - _"Senia! Please, you've got to get ahold of yourself - I understand how you must be feeling right now, but no matter who it looks like, it isn't him, and you know that! I'm certain you can do this,"_ her voice cracks a little, and I can just see her in my mind's eye, bowing her head and taking a deep breath as she tries to keep control over herself, a motion I now do my best to imitate in an attempt to calm down at least slightly. (It does help, somehow, and that is something for which I can only be most grateful.) _"Yes, there you go, just breathe - you can do this,"_ she assures me again, and honestly I can almost believe it when she says it like that, so firm and sure as if to drive out the doubt that has welled strong within me. _"I'll do what I can to aid you from here, though it mightn't be much at all...but remember, Senia, you aren't doing this alone. If - if that helps at all, I mean."  
  
_I nod just slightly, the barest hint of motion, take another shaky breath and square my trembling shoulders, moving to grasp the chakrams hanging at my waist; my limbs feel stiff and wooden, sluggish as if I'm dragging them through a vat of birch syrup, but I can at least _move_ them now and that alone is a bit reassuring. "Thank you," I manage, hoping that it comes out loud enough for her to hear, inhaling slowly again as I lift my head to confront soulless silver eyes once more. "I would...before I begin...I would ask one thing. Call it a mere, useless vagary, but...were we to put a name to this - _creation_ , what would it be?"  
  
An answer does come, but it is not what I expect - it is not Ryne's voice that speaks, but a resounding emanation both familiar and unrecognisable at once, those eyes sharpening somewhat as they gaze at me. "I am the Fatebreaker," the manifestation says, and puts out an arm to brush aside the trailing, scarf-like scales and spines of the serpentine mass wound about his neck and shoulders, a motion so humanlike and yet _not_ at the same time that it sends cold unease down my spine. "The very dread that dwells within you, that presages the end of your fragile existence. Struggle as much as you please; you will not overcome me, and you will be forgotten here." Another movement, this one full of an unearthly fluidity, and the barrel of a wrenchingly familiar gunblade is pointing straight at my face, an explicit threat that says the time for hesitation is well and truly over. "Will you struggle, then - futile though it may be? Or do you mean to simply offer up your life?"  
  
As strange as it may seem, those words are exactly what I need; hot anger takes the place of the fear, skittering in sparks across my every nerve, and I draw myself up to my full height, ears flattening back in sharp determination. "My life is not yours to take," I retort, and though it's only indistinct, I would almost swear that raised a flicker of interest in that otherwise unreadable expression. "But you can bloody well _try_ , if you think yourself able."  
  
He does not respond with words, though I don't expect him to, already moving to meet the first strike with a shriek of grating metal as our weapons clash.  
  
The fight is not easy, though of course I'd not expected it would be; I hadn't quite expected it to be _this_ difficult, however, and it's not long at all before I find myself on the figurative back foot, forced onto the defensive under the Fatebreaker's relentless onslaught. It isn't even just that he's strong, though of course he is that, but he's also alarmingly fast, and obviously quite _intelligent_ to boot - as a being born of Ryne's memories, it's to be expected that he'd know my usual battle techniques and how to counter them, but even my lesser-used moves work for only mere moments before he finds the pattern in them and puts me off my guard once again. _This absolutely isn't fair,_ I find myself thinking as I throw myself out of the way of another fierce blow, sending a chakram arcing towards him but feeling absolutely no surprise when it's swatted away like a mere fly. _I can't find a single weak spot, I can hardly even hit him at all, and I can't keep this up for very much longer. I have to figure something out, I - I can't lose here, I have to win, I absolutely must--  
  
_"Your struggles are worthless," the Fatebreaker's voice cuts into my thoughts, and I realise just a split second too late that he's moved again, taking advantage of my brief distraction to loose a punishing blow that I am only just able to scramble away from. "And so are your futile attempts at resisting. You're not going _anywhere_."  
  
I don't even have time to respond to that before cold energy is twisting about me, my feet leaving the ground as glowing bonds of aether respond to the flick of a finger, immobilising me in the path of the wickedly gleaming blade now aimed directly at my chest.  
  
Ryne screams, a sound just on the edge of hearing, and I can do nothing but squeeze my eyes tightly shut in helpless despair, my lips unconsciously moving to form soundless words. _I'm sorry...I'm so sorry. I tried...please don't be sad, Raha...Thancred...  
  
_But to my surprise, the strike I am preparing for never comes.  
  
Instead, I find myself plummeting, landing in an unceremonious sprawl that leaves me briefly too dazed to even move; it isn't until a sense of movement, and a shadow falling over me, that I manage to open my eyes again, and though I'm not sure what I expected to see, it absolutely isn't the Fatebreaker kneeling before me, pale eyes alight with what I would swear was open curiosity. (That can't be possible, I think - but then again, who would have thought a creation born of mere memories would have anywhere near this much sentience - and that's just going down a philosophical spiral I honestly don't have the focus for, so I promptly put it out of my mind.) He doesn't speak for a time, just simply keeps _looking_ , and it's only when I draw breath to say something myself that he gives voice to any words, quiet and intense in a way that sends not-entirely-unwanted shivers all up and down my spine. "...Why do you struggle so? Even in such a hopeless situation, with the odds stacked so astronomically high against you...truly, you _are_ a curious creature." A pause, and then, shockingly, his gaze seems to soften and warm, a smile now manifesting at the corners of his mouth. "But you have always been so. Haven't you, Senia?"  
  
The sound of my name, so familiar, so unexpected, is what breaks me - because surely I _must_ be broken, now, there being absolutely no other reason for me to throw myself against his chest, burying my face into his shoulder with a wracking sob.  
  
(When did his form change? I'm certain he was far larger, before, easily capable of lifting me in a single hand, and yet now he's sized perfectly to put his arms around me and to _hold_ me--)  
  
I'm not sure how long we stay like that, how long it takes for my tears to pass, but eventually they do and I'm able to lift my head without feeling disgustingly embarrassed with myself, my face starting to burn with a faint blush at the intense silver gaze still unwaveringly fixed on me - has he been watching me this entire time, just a silent observer as I vented my surge of emotion on him? "Er," I blurt, then pause as I realise I haven't the slightest idea what to say, but words are slipping out before I can stop them and I can feel the heat in my face intensifying from nervousness. "Why...didn't you _kill_ me? I could have done naught to stop you if you had..."  
  
He merely looks at me for a moment longer, as if I have suddenly begun to speak some heretofore unknown language, then gives the slightest shake of his head, wry amusement in his eyes. "It would have done no good," he responds finally, lifting a hand to brush away the few tears left on my cheeks, and try as I might, I can't stop myself from leaning into the touch. "You have proven yourself a worthy adversary, one I would not so carelessly destroy before your potential has even been fully brought to bear. No - I would see much and more of what you have to show me, if you will grant me that opportunity." His thumb strokes along my cheekbone, almost an absent motion, and when my lips part just slightly to let the tiniest of sighs pass at the pleasant feeling, his eyes sharpen further in a way that should probably frighten me but is only proving strangely tantalising. "Yes...there is much you can yet do to satisfy me, to perhaps _overcome_ me if you prove yourself more worthy still. Tell me, then, Senia--" and there it is again, that familiar tone of voice, the one that makes me ache so desperately with the longing to satiate my loneliness. "Will you indulge me? Or do you mean to disappoint me with rejection, instead?"  
  
It would likely be best to assure I understand the question more _completely_ before I answer, but I am in no state to do anything but just slowly nod, a curious warmth gathering in me as I continue to look into those intent eyes. "I...I will indulge you," I say, hardly more than a whisper, and it is only through sheer luck that my voice remains steady. "But pray tell me, what exactly do you _mean_ by--"  
  
I never get the rest of the words out; his mouth is on mine by the time I've got that far, and I promptly forget I was saying anything at all.  
  
Perhaps later, I'll wonder how exactly he could be so skilled - I'm certain it can't be anything taken from Ryne's memory, and the alternative is something I probably don't want to think about, if only because I don't care to imagine most Ascians doing that sort of thing - but for now I am content to simply lose myself in the moment, not protesting in the slightest to find myself sprawled beneath him once our lips part, my cheeks burning with what has to be a _most_ impressive blush at the slick heat I can already feel building between my legs. (It should be _humiliating_ , really, that I am so lonely and desperate as to get so easily aroused by, well, _this_ \- but instead the embarrassment I do feel is only fueling that hunger, and I'm not really seeing any need to protest that.) "I,"' I start breathlessly, then " _Oh_ ," because his hand is sliding underneath my skirt, fingers tugging aside my underwear to press into me, and I briefly forget I have the capability to speak at all from the sheer sensation; even having changed form so he is of a more realistic stature in comparison to me, those sizable digits still stretch and _fill_ me to an extent that seems like it should at the least be uncomfortable, but I am too far gone to feel anything but the pleasure he is giving me as he starts to fuck me with his fingers at a leisurely pace, coaxing my body into relaxing and opening for him more completely.  
  
"Yes, please, _more_ \--" I manage, a bare gasp, and he's all too happy to comply, once more claiming my lips in a biting kiss and twisting his hand so the pad of his thumb rests against my quivering clit, rubbing at it firmly with every thrust his fingers make inside of me; it's not long before I can feel the hot, familiar tension that signifies impending release knotting itself tighter and tighter within me, and I'm certain he knows I'm close too, because the movements of his hand are getting sharper and stronger and he's kissing me harder, his tongue pushing past my lips in a demanding motion that leaves me no choice but to submit to the pleasant invasion - as if I would fight it in the least anyway, in part because it feels so shamefully _good_ and also because it's muffling the steadily louder sounds I am making as my orgasm draws inexorably closer, reaching up to grip desperately at his free hand as if I might fall off the face of the planet otherwise. Besides, holding tight to him helps to tamp down the shame, the utter guilt I feel in the back of my mind that I am enjoying this so much - he's _not_ Thancred, I know full well he's not, and yet I--  
  
But perhaps thankfully, I don't have to entertain that thought for long, because he's just clasped my hand tight in his own and guided it between his own legs, and the feel of the hot, thick length beneath my fingers is enough to push me over the edge into a helpless climax, even as I burn with the desperate ache to have it _inside_ of me.  
  
He gives a soft, approving groan, likely both at the feel of my hand on him and the way my slick walls clench and quiver as I come, and only once I have ceased to tremble does he pull back from the kiss and withdraw his fingers from me - I would protest, and in fact do draw breath to do just that, but he silences me preemptively by slipping those wet fingers into my mouth, a smirk on his face that I would think was downright smug had I the coherency to do so. "Clean them, like a good girl," he breathes, a sultry tone that sends needy shivers all through me, "and you'll get what you want if you do it well--" a sentiment I certainly can't resist, and I don't hesitate to close my lips round his fingers in a hasty suckle, offering no protest when he pushes them in deep enough for my mouth to water, as if to fuck my throat just as he did further below. The taste isn't necessarily unpleasant, anyway; hot salt with something just on the edge of being slightly bitter, underlaid with the not-quite-flavour of the strong aether that pulses through his body, it's almost intoxicating in its way and I don't realise how greedily I'm working at his fingers till he pulls his hand away, low amusement rumbling through his chest in a sound more sensed than heard. "You _are_ a good girl, aren't you - so obedient," he strokes the pad of his thumb over my lower lip, giving a very self-satisfied smirk when his words draw a needy whine from my throat. "Very well; I'll give you what you want. You deserve it for doing such a thorough job."  
  
I feel I should say something in response - thank him, perhaps, or something of the like - but I don't even get a chance really, because he's stripping me of my underwear before sitting back to pull away the cloth wrapped round his hips so I can _finally_ get my first good look at him, rendering me briefly speechless by what's before my eyes; I'd expected him to be rather sizable just from touching, but actually seeing it just drives that point firmly home, and I still haven't quite decided whether I'm frightened or just anticipating what's to come by the time he shifts over me again, resting one hand on my hip and taking hold of his thick shaft with the other to guide it inside me. "You are certain this is what you want?" he murmurs as the tip of it pushes against my slick opening and I go still, almost holding my breath from nervousness, though the unexpected kindness at this crucial moment sparks a note of warmth within my chest. "This is your final chance to protest. But you won't, will you?"  
  
_How can he know me so well,_ I think - and then I think I probably don't want to know the answer, just taking a slow breath and nodding once, bracing myself as best I can. "I shan't protest," I agree, a bare whisper, and part my legs just a little more, as invitingly as I can. "Please."  
  
He doesn't hesitate for even a second, just rocks forward to slide into me in a single swift motion, and my entire being seems to fragment briefly into an overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure.  
  
By the time I've come back to my senses enough to know what I'm doing, I've wrapped myself about him the best I can, legs round his waist and arms clinging tight to his neck as he ravages me relentlessly, every fierce thrust punctuated by the sharp smack of our hips meeting as he bottoms out inside me (and I'm sure I'll find myself wondering later precisely how that's possible, as large as he is, but I'm absolutely not complaining.) It's so much _more_ than I was expecting, somehow, to feel myself full up to the point of near delirium, his every movement further soothing the desperate ache that even now burns within me, and it isn't long before I'm losing hold of the last lingering shreds of hesitation, tangling my hands into his hair and pulling his mouth down to mine for a sharp biting kiss. Forget the uncertainty, forget the _shame_ , there's no place for any of that just now amidst the heat and the sensation and the _need_ \- and perhaps he's sensed I am at last giving in completely, because he's abruptly shifting to wrap me in a strangely possessive hold and it seems like the entire world just falls away, the scorching ecstacy of him in me and the protective cradle of his strong arms around me all that I can comprehend.  
  
It is bliss, pure agonising pleasure that sears through every bit of me, and I regret nothing, not even when his vicious thrusts drive me to convulsive release and the heat of him spilling himself deep into me follows not long after.  
  
I feel as if I'm floating for a time, simply lost in the haze of afterglow, but eventually the feel of him withdrawing from inside me brings me back to reality and I can't stop a quiet whine, clutching at him helplessly as if to keep him there even though it's absolutely useless to even try. "Wait," I start, breathless and a little sad, and then hesitate for a moment when his eyes meet mine - what am I going to _say_ , after all? - before going on, pushing myself slowly up on my elbows to look down at my thoroughly ravaged body, a blush springing to my cheeks as I take in the sight of his release trickling out of me, painting the insides of my thighs in thick whitish trails. "Can we not - simply _stay_ like this, for a time? I..."  
  
"We cannot," he says, and despite the cruel finality in the statement, I think I hear something regretful underneath it, something that sets my heart to aching in my chest. "Though what we have just done was no battle, it was draining nonetheless, and I have but little time remaining to me due to the aetheric depletion. Yet I regret nothing - to lay with you was an endeavour as worthy as any fight, and I am proud to proclaim you the victor of this would-be conflict." Leaning in, he clasps my chin delicately in his fingers and brushes his lips across mine in a gentle kiss, his gaze sympathetic when he draws back to see the helpless look on my face. "You are an intelligent girl, Senia, and quick-thinking besides; surely you understand why this course of events is the best for _all_ of us. For you, for the _true_ Thancred, for Ryne..." he pauses briefly, something almost tortured flickering through his eyes, and only the fact I'm still too exhausted to even move properly prevents me from trying to wrap him in a comforting embrace. "I must...thank you, for granting me this experience. For making my existence, however brief, a fulfilling one."  
  
Though I want to cry out, to clutch at him desperately, to do _something_ to try and keep him there - I know it is impossible, and I can do nothing as he wraps his arms around me, pulls me into an embrace rapidly becoming less and less tangible, whispering at my ear.  
  
"You deserve all the happiness in the world. _Both_ of you..."  
  
And then, in an upwelling of shimmering light, he simply dissolves away, returning to the aether that surrounds me as if he were never there at all.  
  
Some time later, once I have exhausted my tears, regained enough of a semblance of coordination to move about, and cleaned myself up to the best of my ability, I finally make my return to Eden's core; Ryne is waiting there for me, utterly beside herself with panicked anxiety, and I can only be glad she has the self control _not_ to tackle me the instant she sees me because I'm certain I wouldn't be able to keep to my feet. "Senia, what _happened_?! I was so certain he was going to kill you, and then I suddenly couldn't see anything at all, no matter how hard I tried - I'm so glad you're alive," she breaks off into a choked sob, rushes forward to hug me tightly, burying her face into my shoulder. "You...you won, right? Since you're here, that means you won, doesn't it?"  
  
So she didn't see any of what the Fatebreaker did to me, I think with a surge of relief so strong it nearly makes my knees buckle underneath me, and bring my arms up after a moment to return the tight hug, nodding slowly once. "I won - it's over now. I'm just exhausted..." and it isn't even a lie, so I don't really have to feel guilty about what I'm not telling her. "I understand we haven't much time left, but I...I'm afraid I need a few moments to rest. That was...rather punishing," I can't help but snort a sardonic laugh, but she seems to take it as smugness over my 'victory', for which I can only be grateful. "Please tell me we've enough time for that. I can't fight anything else until I've sat down for a little while."  
  
"I think we do," Ryne says slowly after a moment's consideration, pulling back to look me over, like she's suspicious but can't really put her finger on why - I'm not sure if she sees no tells in my expression and posture or if she's merely deciding she doesn't want to know what happened, but I'm not about to argue about it if she isn't going to push the subject. "Just...tell me one thing, first. Your aether is absolutely _flooded_ with Light - did you have to absorb it, in order to defeat him?"  
  
"I - yes. Yes, that's exactly what happened," I agree quickly once the initial moment of panicked shock at her words has passed, hoping that it comes off like I was considering whether I ought to tell her so as not to frighten her and not like...well, like I was caught completely flat-footed with alarm that she might have even the slightest suspicion about the events that just occurred. "You needn't worry about me, really - I'm perfectly well, the Light will fade before much longer. More importantly, how close are we to freeing Gaia? Have you come any closer to a possible solution?"  
  
Ryne squints at me just slightly, like she doesn't _quite_ believe me, but blessedly, she accepts the subject change _before_ I grow nervous enough to start squirming and blow what little cover I may still possess over the entire situation. "I can't say, I'm afraid - but I think I may have an idea. It's only small, and it's risky, but..."  
  
"Why don't we sit down," I suggest, and I even have the coordination to sink into a graceful sit instead of just an exhausted sprawl to punctuate my words, "and you tell me all about it."  
  
Thankfully, she doesn't argue, and I can't be anything but genuinely relieved at that.


End file.
